


a little rain must fall

by laminy



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Awkward Flirting, First Kiss, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laminy/pseuds/laminy
Summary: Joe borrows some of Gwil's clothes when they get caught in the rain after rehearsals.Mazzlee Week Day 1 prompt - sharing clothes.
Relationships: Gwilym Lee/Joe Mazzello
Comments: 24
Kudos: 35





	a little rain must fall

Gwil glances over at Joe, who’s frowning a bit, looking out at the street. They’re standing just inside the door of the studio where they take their guitar lessons, having just wrapped up today’s. It was bright and sunny when they went in. Now, only a couple hours later, it’s dark and pouring; the type of rain that means they’ll be soaked to the bone after just five seconds outside, maybe ten. 

And they’re a five minute walk away from the nearest tube station.

“Ugh, gross,” Joe mutters, still frowning. He looks over at Gwil. “Do we run?” he asks.

Gwil shrugs. “We can, yeah,” he says. “I don’t think it’ll matter much.”

Joe sighs. “Fuck.” At least he’s wearing his baseball cap, but still. It’s fine for Gwil to get soaked— well, no, either way, riding the tube back to Gwil's flat sopping wet is going to feel terrible, but at least Gwil will have something warm and dry to change into when they get there. But he’d invited Joe over for supper, and Joe’s got nothing with him except his wallet.

“You can borrow something,” Gwil says.

“Huh?” Joe asks, glancing over at him again.

“If that’s what you’re worried about,” Gwil says. “When we get back, you can wear anything of mine you’d like, and we’ll dry your clothes while we eat.”

“Okay,” Joe says softly. He just smiles faintly, shaking his head a bit. “It’s gonna suck though, either way.”

Gwil laughs at that, clapping Joe on the shoulder a couple of times. “Yes, it is,” he agrees. “But there’s no time like the present! And it is just water, after all.”

Joe groans, and then slowly pushes the door open. He looks back at Gwil. “Please tell me you’re not going to make me run out there alone, like an idiot, while you stand in here and laugh while calling an Uber.”

Gwil grins. “Well, I hadn’t thought of that, but it sounds like a great idea.”

“ _Gwil_!”

Gwil laughs again, and then waves Joe on, following closely behind him as they step outside. “What, it never rains in New York?” he asks.

“I think it rains more, actually,” Joe says. “Though seems it never rains in Southern California."

“Come on,” Gwil says. He glances left then right, then looks back at Joe. He reaches his hand out to him, and Joe sighs, before reluctantly taking it. It feels nice, though. “On the count of three,” Gwil says. “One…two…”

“Ugh, I don’t wanna,” Joe whines, but then Gwil starts running anyway, and Joe just follows behind him. Their feet splash into the puddles on the sidewalk, and Joe whimpers every so often, especially as his socks get completely drenched through his sneakers, until he can feel his toes squishing down with every step. At some point, his fingers slip from Gwil’s, which is maybe for the best because water is running down their skin and making it hard to keep hold, but it still makes his stomach twinge a bit.

When they get to the tube station, Gwil stops, breathing a little heavily, but he’s mostly laughing. He reaches up, pushing his soaking hair back from his forehead, looking at Joe. “You alright?” he asks.

“Fine,” Joe says, pinching at his shirt, pulling it away from his chest. “Great,” he mutters.

Gwil laughs again and claps Joe on the back, then turns, heading into the station. “Come on,” he says, careful to not slip on the wet floor, Joe following close behind him.

There are a few seats free, but each of them just look down at their clothes, and shake their heads, deciding to stand.

“I think that went well today,” Gwil says softly, and Joe smiles up at him, nodding.

“Yeah,” he says, “I feel…okay about it.”

“You’ll be brilliant,” Gwil says, “don’t worry.” He smiles at Joe, shifting his balance a bit as the train car turns a bit, and for a moment, they’re close. Joe’s stomach flutters a bit, and then he looks down at his feet.

The rain is still coming down when they get off the tube near Gwil’s, though not nearly as bad as it was when they left the studio. They don’t run to Gwil’s flat, but it’s a brisk walk, trying to stay close to the buildings and avoid as much of the downpour as they can before Gwil leads Joe up to his flat. He unlocks the door and steps aside for Joe to follow him in, both of them immediately leaning down to take off their shoes. Joe groans and peels off his socks, looking at them in disgust. 

“Come on,” Gwil says, and Joe drops the socks on his sneakers, following Gwil into his bedroom. Gwil glances back at Joe. “Do you want shorts?” he asks. “Or joggers?”

“Uh, still a bit warm for sweatpants, thanks,” Joe says. “Shorts are fine.”

“Here,” Gwil says, tossing a pair back to him. “Probably going to be a bit long on you.”

Joe snorts. “Yeah, you think?” he asks, holding the shorts up, smiling at him.

“What do you want for a shirt?” Gwil asks.

Joe walks over, standing next to Gwil, looking at his options. “Oh, _this_ ,” he says almost immediately, “ _definitely_ this.” He picks up the rugby jersey, holding it up to his chest. “What do you think?” he asks.

Gwil just smiles and shakes his head. “Brilliant,” he says. He grabs some clothes for himself, then looks at Joe. “Let me get you a towel,” he says. He walks out of his room and comes back a few seconds later, tossing it over to Joe. “I’ll get changed, just give me your clothes when you’re done, I’ll hang them up.” He leaves the room again, closing the door behind him.

Joe takes off his baseball hat, and then immediately peels off his shirt, and shivers. He rubs the towel over his chest and arms, and then undoes his shorts, pushing them down. He frowns a bit, looking at his boxers. They’re pretty wet too, the rain having soaked through the fabric of his shorts, but…he can’t really imagine taking his boxers off and handing them over to Gwil. But at the same time, keeping them on, and putting on dry shorts over them, it makes no sense. 

Joe shifts a few times on his feet, still absentmindedly drying his chest as he thinks. He grabs Gwil’s shorts and is about to pull them on when he just shakes his head and drops them on the floor, pushing down his boxers. God, he hopes Gwil doesn’t think he’s an idiot for this. It’s only once Joe has Gwil’s shorts on that he realizes oh, Gwil also might not be a fan of the fact that Joe’s dick is now all up in his clothes. Joe groans, and just grabs the rugby jersey, pulling it on. He dries his hair a bit, hating this stupid goddamn perm, and then gathers his clothes up in his arms, walking out into Gwil’s flat.

Gwil’s already changed as well, having moved into the kitchen to start getting their food together. “Oh, I can take that,” he says, reaching out for the bundle of clothes.

“Nope!” Joe says quickly. “I got it, thanks. Just— where?”

“Rack’s in the bathroom right now,” Gwil says. “I put your socks in there already.”

“Thanks,” Joe says, hurrying into the bathroom. He hangs up his clothes, trying to shift things around so that his boxers are mostly hiding behind other things while also not touching Gwil’s clothes. He heads back out into the flat, and then climbs onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter, watching Gwil. “What are you making?” he asks.

“Pasta,” Gwil says, "is that alright?” Joe nods. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“I’m lactose-intolerant,” Joe says with a shrug, “but that’s fine.”

“Okay,” Gwil says, smiling at him. “There’s no dairy in this.”

“Perfect,” Joe says. “You know, thanks for having me over, and all. I really appreciate it."

“You’re more than welcome,” Gwil says. He turns and walks over to his stove, where he has a pot of water on. “Do you want something to drink?” he asks.

“Uh, beer?” Joe asks. “Or wine? I’m not picky.”

“I’ve got both,” Gwil says. He walks over to the refrigerator and grabs a couple bottles of beer, handing one over to Joe. He smiles, twisting off the cap, watching Joe do the same. “To Brian and John,” Gwil says, lifting up his bottle.

“I’ll drink to that,” Joe says, smiling up at Gwil. “Though I still kind of wish we were showing John write _Back Chat_.” Gwil laughs at that, taking a drink. “Hey, can I help you with anything?” he asks.

Gwil shakes his head, checking on the water, then grabbing a baking sheet. “No, please,” he says, “I didn’t invite you over to cook for me.”

“Well,” Joe shrugs, “you could, because I am a very good cook.”

“Oh, is that so?” Gwil asks. Joe nods. “Well then, since you’re staying in a hotel here, I suppose I can invite you over again so you can make something for me.” 

Joe smiles at him. “Okay,” he says, “deal. I’ll start thinking of something to blow your mind.”

They keep chatting as Gwil smoothly prepares their meal: spaghetti and shrimp in a spicy sauce that Gwil quickly whips up. He gives one plate to Joe, and then while he’s making his own, looks over at him. “Do you want to sit at the counter?” he asks. “We can move to the sofa.”

Joe swallows hard, looking up at him. Usually, _we can move to the sofa_ means something else to him. He doesn’t think that’s how Gwil intends it— but then again, maybe he does? _No_ , Joe thinks, _he_ —

Gwil just sits down at the counter next to Joe, wearing a friendly smile, and Joe tries not to wonder how much time actually passed while he was trying to come up with an answer, so instead he just spins the spaghetti around his fork, taking a big bite. “Oh my god,” Joe says immediately.

“Too hot?” Gwil asks quickly.

Joe shakes his head, chewing. “No,” he says, then swallows hard, “oh my god it’s good. That's a good _oh my god_."

Gwil watches Joe for a moment, and then smiles again. “Alright,” he says softly, “good.”

“Thank you, again,” Joe says. He swallows and grabs his beer, taking a drink. “It’s— I meant it when I said I appreciate it, is all. Staying in a hotel is great because you never have to clean anything, but it also makes a home-cooked meal a bit harder to come by.”

“Well, you’re welcome over whenever,” Gwil says. He reaches out, patting Joe on the leg a couple times, and Joe looks down. “I like the company.”

“Okay,” Joe says softly. “Thank you.”

Gwil smiles at him again. “You’re welcome,” he says. He takes a big bite of spaghetti, and then reaches out for his beer as he chews.

Joe looks around Gwil’s flat as he eats; there are photos of children, presumably Gwil’s nieces and nephews. Family photos of Gwil with his siblings, he thinks. None of anyone that looks like they might be Gwil’s girlfriend. Or boyfriend, as the case may be. “Have you always lived alone?” he asks suddenly, and then he just…can’t believe it, really. That's a terrible opener, even for him.

Gwil looks at Joe in surprise, and then slowly smiles. “Uh…”

“Sorry,” Joe says quickly, “that was a weird question, I have no idea why I asked. I— sorry, huh.”

“It’s alright,” Gwil says. “Uh, no, though, to answer your question. But I have for awhile. You?”

“Yes, actually,” Joe says. “I— uh, came close a couple times but never really got to that point, I guess.”

“That’s fair,” Gwil says.

Joe nods a couple times. “Are you, uh, are you still close with her?” he asks. He tells himself he needs to shut up now, but he can't make himself stop.

“Who?” Gwil asks, taking another sip of beer.

“Your ex,” Joe says.

“Oh,” Gwil says, “uh, no. We’re— I haven’t seen him in awhile.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” Joe says. He shakes his head a bit. “Uh, unless he was a piece of shit, in which case, fuck him.”

Gwil chuckles, shaking his head. “No, he— he was fine. Just didn’t work out. Happens sometimes.”

“Happens a lot to me,” Joe says. “Not that— you didn’t invite me over to have me complain about my exes, I’ll be quiet now.” He takes another big bite of the spaghetti, shaking his head a bit.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Gwil says. “Are you…looking?” he asks, shifting a bit next to him.

Joe swallows hard, then shrugs. “I don’t— I mean, maybe, yeah, I guess.” The moment is starting to feel a bit too serious, so he just smiles and waves his hand towards his head. “Probably not going to have much luck with this muppet on my head, but I guess we’ll see how desperate the men of London really are.”

Gwil smiles. “It is…”

“Terrible,” Joe says.

“I was going to say, _a look_ ,” Gwil says, “but no, it’s not terrible. It’s just…I don’t know.”

“Terrible,” Joe says again. “It’s fine.” He takes another drink of beer.

“Well, once I've got my wig on,” Gwil says, “I also look pretty terrible, so don’t worry too much about it.”

“Wow,” Joe says, “I can’t wait to tell Brian May that you think he looks terrible.”

“No, I said _I_ look—”

“And you’re the guy’s clone,” Joe says, “so…you know. You just called him ugly! Wow. Wow! I— this just might lose you the job, Gwil.” He looks at Gwil, who just grins and rolls his eyes, taking a drink. “Nice knowing you. Like what are the odds that you, a Brian May twin, are an actor, and are the exact right age to be playing him at the same time they’re making a Queen movie.”

“Uh, I guess as good as them finding John Deacon’s long lost son,” Gwil says, and Joe laughs.

“Lucky us, then,” Joe says.

Gwil smiles at him, nodding. “Very lucky,” he says softly, and Joe swallows hard, looking away.

They finish their pasta in silence, and Gwil stands up, taking their plates over to the sink, rinsing them before he sticks them in the dishwasher.

“I should go then, huh,” Joe says, standing up.

“What?” Gwil asks, looking back at him, a confused look on his face. “It’s— it’s not— are you sure?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Joe says. “Uh, I don’t know, it’ll take me awhile to get back to my part of town on the subway, and I don’t want to keep you or anything.”

“From what?” Gwil asks. “I— don’t have any plans tonight or anything.”

“I just…don’t want to be a bother,” Joe says. “I mean, you made me supper and everything, so…” He shifts on his feet, uncomfortable. He knows he made everything even more awkward by suggesting he leave so early. At least he should have stayed for another drink. He has no idea what he’s thinking anymore.

“I— you’re not a bother,” Gwil says, “but certainly, I— if you want to go.” He wrings his hands a couple times. “Oh, just let me check on your clothes,” he says. He heads into the bathroom, and Joe nods a couple times before his eyes widen. 

“Uh, wait!” Joe says.

There’s silence from the bathroom, and then there’s the sound of Gwil starting to laugh. “Joe?” he asks, walking back out into the flat.

“Don’t ask,” Joe says, making a face, “I’m sorry, don’t say anything.”

“Your boxers are drying in there, yeah?” Gwil asks, an amused smile on his face.

Joe groans. “No, I— I don’t know whose they are.”

Gwil laughs again. “I— I don’t mind,” he says, “I’m just—” He reaches up, rubbing his forehead. “I would’ve offered you a pair to wear, if I’d thought.”

“Oh no,” Joe says, shaking his head. “That’s— no, that’s okay. I’m sorry you had to see those.”

“They’re just boxers,” Gwil says. “I’ve— believe it or not, I’ve seen a few pairs in my day before.”

“Yeah,” Joe says softly. “I…” He sighs. “Sorry anyway.” He shifts on his feet.

“Anyway,” Gwil says, “they’re not dry yet, so you can— you can stay and wait, or you can borrow what you’re wearing.”

“Oh,” Joe says, looking down at his clothes. Gwil’s clothes. He didn’t really think that part through. Which idea sounds less ridiculous— well, no, leaving Gwil’s flat in his bright red Wales rugby jersey and no boxers is automatically the more ridiculous idea. “I can wait,” he says.

“Okay,” Gwil says happily. “You want another beer?”

Joe nods, and Gwil smiles over at him.

They end up on Gwil’s sofa, watching some gangster movie from the ‘70s. Joe’s got his legs stretched out onto the coffee table in front of them, and Gwil’s got his feet up on the sofa, which is a bit odd when Joe thinks about it; he sort of imagines that Gwil would like to just stretch out whenever he can. Gwil offers him snacks, says they can order in, or he can run down to the shop, but Joe just shakes his head and assures him that he’s fine. He is kind of hungry still, but he also feels like he’s overstaying his welcome; he can’t help it, even though Gwil has said nothing to suggest that’s true. They don’t really know each other _that_ well yet for Joe to just behave like his normal self, though he has a sneaking suspicion that Gwil is a bit weirder than his model good looks would suggest.

Joe’s just opened his fourth beer when he yawns loudly, unable to stifle it. “Sorry,” he says, a bit sheepishly.

Gwil just smiles at him. “That’s alright,” he says. “Uh, it is getting…uh, let me check on your clothes again.” He pushes himself up off the sofa, walking into his bathroom.

Joe stands up slowly, picking up his beer bottle. He doesn’t plan on drinking the rest of it, and just pouring it down the drain seems a bit rude since he didn’t buy it, so he really has no idea what he plans on doing with it.

“They’re mostly dry now,” Gwil says, walking back out. “It should be fine.”

“Oh,” Joe says. He frowns a bit, and he’s not really sure why he feels disappointed by that. They’re _his_ clothes, he should want to wear them. He smooths his hand over the fabric of Gwil’s jersey though; this thing’s really grown on him in the last couple hours.

“Are you planning on taking the tube?” Gwil asks.

Joe shrugs. “I mean, yeah. I live in New York, I’m— I can figure it out.”

“Because you’re welcome to stay,” Gwil says. “Just…if you’d like, is all.”

Joe nods once, then looks around, frowning. Gwil lives in a one-bedroom flat, so. “Uh, no, that’s— I couldn’t ask that. I’ve got a perfectly decent hotel room waiting for me.”

“Right,” Gwil says, “of course.” He taps his foot a couple times. “Well, uh…right, I’ll leave you to change then.”

Joe nods, and walks past Gwil into the bathroom. He sighs when he catches himself in the mirror, and that stupid goddamn perm— why did John Deacon have to do this to him? He pulls off Gwil’s jersey, sitting it down on the counter, and then grabs his own t-shirt, tugging it on. He takes off Gwil’s shorts, and grabs his boxers and shorts, getting fully dressed. He tugs on his socks, hopping up and down a couple times, and then he looks at himself in the mirror again, frowning a bit.

It’s been awhile since he’s flirted with a guy, if that’s what he can even call this. And it’s been even longer, sadly, since a guy has flirted with him, if that’s what Gwil is even doing. _Is_ that what Gwil’s doing? He groans softly, shaking his head. He looks down, pushing Gwil’s shorts away from him with his foot, and then he reaches out, picking up Gwil’s jersey. He holds it to his chest, finding that he really doesn’t want to give it back yet. Maybe that’s the sign, a test. If he asks Gwil if he can wear it home— or to the hotel, whatever, Joe thinks. If Gwil says yes, maybe that means…

Well, maybe it means that Gwil is just a decent guy, Joe thinks, since he’s already made him dinner, gave him drinks, and offered him a place to stay. Gwil would probably be happy to let Joe walk out of here with his shirt on. 

But if Gwil said _no_ , well that would be a sign at least. Then Joe would know. Joe sighs, and then shakes his head a bit. This is fucking stupid. He looks down at his t-shirt, and then reaches out, turning on the tap. He sticks his hand under the water, and then dries it on his chest. He does it a couple more times, until his shirt is still a bit damp. So, he might be gaming the system a bit, but it couldn’t hurt. He picks up Gwil’s jersey again, and then takes a deep breath, nodding a couple times before reaching out to open the bathroom door. “Gwil,” he starts, opening the door, and then he startles back when Gwil reaches out to him, cupping Joe’s face between his hands, pulling him in for a kiss. Joe moans softly, opening his mouth to Gwil’s, practically melting beneath him.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Gwil says suddenly, stepping back, “I— oh my god, Joe, I— that was awful of me.”

“Really, that was awful?” Joe asks, blinking a couple times. “Well, fuck me then, I can’t wait to see what amazing is.”

“What— really?” Gwil asks. “Joe, I am sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I do,” Joe says. He reaches out, pulling Gwil back in for another kiss, the jersey just sort of awkwardly forgotten between them, held up by their chests pressed together. He presses himself on his tiptoes, drawing Gwil down, moaning softly before he pulls back. “Something along those lines?” he says, smiling up at Gwil.

Gwil swallows hard and then smiles, nodding. “Yes, I— like that.” He steps back, and the jersey falls to the floor. “Oh,” Gwil says, reaching down to pick it up. He looks back at Joe, then frowns. “Your shirt’s still wet,” he says, confused.

“Oh, yeah,” Joe says. “I was…going to ask if I could borrow your jersey, to…until my shirt dries.”

“Your shirt was dry when I checked it,” Gwil says.

“That’s because I got it wet on purpose,” Joe says. “I was trying to trick you.”

“Oh,” Gwil says. “Uh, ha, alright. Uh, here.” He holds the jersey out towards Joe, who takes off his t-shirt. Gwil blows out a quiet breath, watching the shift of Joe’s muscles as he reaches out to take the jersey from Gwil’s hand, tugging it over his head. 

“Thank you,” Joe says, with a bit of a smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing, then.

“You’re welcome,” Gwil smiles. “Uh…leave your t-shirt here, I can bring it to our lesson tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Joe says. He smiles, and then hands the t-shirt over to Gwil, leaning in to give him another quick kiss. 

“Are you sure you want to leave?” Gwil asks, and then his eyes widen. “Not that— I didn’t— well, I mean, we are adults and there’s nothing wrong with that, I just meant— if you stayed, it wouldn’t be for that, I just—”

“I’m gonna still go,” Joe says, and Gwil nods, “but don’t take that wrong way or anything, I just…not tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” Gwil says softly. “Wait, not tonight?”

Joe laughs. “Yes, Gwil, not tonight.” He reaches down, tugging on his sneakers. They’re still a bit…soggy, he thinks, but he’ll have to deal with it.

“But…” Gwil smiles. “Maybe another night?” he asks hopefully.

“Uh, yes,” Joe says, “you can bet on it.” He fidgets a bit with the pockets on his shorts, smiling at Gwil. “Uh, thank you for tonight,” he says.

“Of course,” Gwil says, nodding. “It was my pleasure.”

“Okay,” Joe says softly, and he just keeps smiling at him. “Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then, for rehearsals.” Gwil nods. “I’ll bring your shirt.”

“No, keep it,” Gwil says, “I can— it looks good on you.”

Joe laughs softly. “Well, I’m sure it looks better on you, but thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re alright to get back to the hotel?” Gwil asks. “A taxi might be safer.”

“I’m okay, Gwil,” Joe says. “Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Okay,” Gwil says. “Uh, thank you for coming over.”

“My pleasure,” Joe says. He opens the door to Gwil’s flat, then turns back around. “Uh, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Gwil says. He reaches out, sliding his hand to Joe’s lower back, tugging him back in for another kiss. “Are you free tomorrow?” he asks softly, lips brushing against Joe's.

Joe nods. “I think so, yeah," he says. "After rehearsals.”

“Okay,” Gwil says. “Do you want to go out for dinner? Maybe a film afterward?”

Joe nods again, smiling. “Yeah, that sounds…yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay,” Gwil says. He gives Joe another kiss, and then smiles. “I know it’s a bit…early days, but would you just message when you get back to your room? Just so I know you’re safe.”

“Yeah, that's okay,” Joe says. He smiles and then gives Gwil another kiss. “Okay, bye.”

“Bye, Joe,” Gwil says, waving at him.

Joe walks out into the hallway, and he glances back and gives Gwil another smile before Gwil closes the door. As he walks downstairs, he checks Google Maps and the estimated time on the subway from Gwil’s flat to his hotel, and then groans. Maybe Gwil’s right about the taxi. He manages to hail one, sticking his arm out into the street. He gives the driver the address to the hotel, and then settles back in his seat, smiling. 

By the time he gets to his hotel, he really is tired. He pays the driver, and then hurries up to his room, eagerly kicking his sneakers off once he’s in the room. He takes off his socks first, since they’re now damp again from his shoes, and then puts them with his dirty laundry. He takes out his phone, sending Gwil a text to let him know he’s safely arrived, and tosses his phone on the bed as he heads into the bathroom. 

Joe glances in the mirror, and then does a double take. “Fuck,” he says, hand going up to his head, “my hat.” He left it in Gwil’s bedroom, he remembers now, when he was changing. Joe walks back out into the room, picking his phone up off the mattress. He's about to ask Gwil to bring his hat to rehearsals tomorrow, when he sees that Gwil’s already replied to him. Joe opens the message, and then immediately grins— a photo of Gwil, wearing Joe’s Yankees hat.

 _Trade you?_ , the message reads, and Joe just shakes his head, typing out a response.

_Nope, I like the jersey too much. Besides, looks better on you anyway._

_Not possible._

Joe smiles, sitting down on the bed. He knows it’s early, way too early for all the thoughts running through his head, god they’ve only just _kissed_ , they haven’t even gone on a date yet. Filming hasn’t even started! But still, he thinks, he could really fall for this guy. And he really likes the sound of that.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Mazzlee Week from @mazzlee-shippies! Not a ship I've written before, but I really like it, and it's definitely under-appreciated. I hope you enjoy!


End file.
